Of Christmas and Changes
by sainiuil
Summary: Hermione is getting ready to spend the holidays alone, but intervention from an unlikely friend salvages the season.


She stood silently on the street corner, falling snow illumined by the rays of a nearby lamp. Her breath came out in misty puffs, and she pushed her hands deeper in her pockets. She had worked late, and was beginning her trudge through the elements. It was December 23rd, and Hermione Granger was getting ready for another lonely Christmas. Harry and Ron felt badly for her of course, but they were so wrapped up with their own families and she didn't want to be a nuisance. Harry and Ginny were bringing their three children to the Burrow for the holidays, and Ron was experiencing the Bahamas the Muggle way with his wife Helene. Hermione hated to impose on everyone, so she had told them that she had plans with her family - which, of course, she didn't. Even her parents were going to be away this year. So the day before Christmas Eve found her wandering the streets of the suburbs of Muggle London. She wasn't normally one to get so down about something, but she was starting to feel like maybe the time had come when she was no longer really a part of everything. Harry had married Ginny shortly after the War, and Ron had met a woman from Beauxbatons – Helene – and a year ago they too were wed, leaving Hermione on her own. She had always had so much in common with her two best friends that suddenly being so different was somewhat disconcerting. So this was her first year on her own.

Not paying much attention to where she was going, she just followed her feet. And was she ever surprised to see where she wound up. Draco Malfoy's flat loomed in front of her.

She and Draco had reconciled during their seventh year when he had proven to not be so irredeemable as everyone had thought. He had actually been instrumental in winning the War, though he never mentioned it. After they graduated, Draco and Hermione got jobs in the same office of the Ministry. They had developed a professional relationship that had miraculously blossomed into an easy friendship after working together so long into the night time after time. Although each had been transferred, they were assigned as liaisons between their respective departments after the potential of their joint productivity was realized. They saw each other often now, whether just by chance or because they wanted to enjoy a movie together.

She remembered how funny it had seemed to her when she had found out that she would be working alongside Draco Malfoy. The very same Draco Malfoy that could live comfortably without ever working a day in his life. She had only asked him about it once, and he told her that he felt he just needed to do something real. He had not forsaken Malfoy Manor though; it was, after all, his family home. However, he had donated it to be used as a hospital for those suffering from War injuries because St. Mungo's had quickly filled up and could not handle the great influx of people in need of aid. He had given a fair amount of his money too, though he did keep some stashed away in Gringott's. Draco lived now in a modest flat in a suburb of London. As Hermione looked around, she realized that if she had seen him in this setting several years ago, she would have been in shock at the stark contrast between his naturally steely countenance and the comfortable setting around him. Then again, if the War hadn't happened, Draco might still have been a miserable elitist, intolerant of anything that breathed. As it was, he had become better – the only way Hermione could think to describe it was "more human".

Now the familiar blond head darted out of a window above where Hermione stood. "Granger, trying to will my door open by staring at it long enough? It won't work, I've tried on many an inebriated occasion," he quipped, a good-natured smile on his face. "It's open, come on up, you must be freezing your bloody arse off out there." And with that he pulled his head back inside, glad to get himself out of the cold.

As Hermione opened the door and the warmth fully hit her, she realized how frigid it was and how completely daft she must have been wandering around wearing just a sweater over her clothes from work. Draco must have thought the same thing when he came down to meet her by the door, because he was quick to comment, "Christ, Granger, what the bloody hell were you hoping to do - turn yourself into a damn icicle in a sudden violent and mildly obsessive onslaught of holiday spirit?" Hermione only smiled as she followed him up the stairs and into his familiar dwelling. He had a fire going, the light from which danced around on his walls. However there was one fairly conspicuous absence, she noted with dismay.

"Draco Malfoy," she began in mock seriousness. "I am absolutely horrified."

He looked up from making hot chocolate in the kitchen – the Muggle way. "And why ever would that be? Perhaps overwhelmed by my kindness at taking a complete stranger such as you into my home to thaw? I swear it won't happen again," he joked.

"Christmas is in two days and there is absolutely no holiday spirit to be found in this hole."

"Hypocrite," he shot back. "I happen to know for a fact that you, Ms. Granger, did not so much as put up a miserable little fake tree this year. Admit it, you have out-Grinched me. At least I don't pretend to be a jolly spirited person."

"Humph," she concluded, letting herself drop onto the couch. He was right though. She loved holidays, but she had been hesitant to decorate this year. She figured that maybe if she didn't have any reminders of Christmas, it might slip by unnoticed. Fat chance.

Draco came back into the living room, a steaming mug of hot chocolate in each hand (Hermione's with a candy cane and plenty of marshmallows, just as she liked it), and sank down next to her. Noticing her attire, he was prompted to query, "Work late again?"

"Mmm," she nodded, sipping the hot chocolate he had handed to her.

"Well stop. I swear one day you will become permanently affixed to that office. Although I may be a Scrooge, I stubbornly insist that you stay away from that all-absorbing hellhole at least until New Years. Hell, the Minister himself isn't even going to be in. But then…"

Hermione silenced him with a glare before the Weasley bashing could once again commence. "Honestly," she sighed with exasperation, "at least let them be here to defend themselves."

"As you wish."

"And I'll work if I feel so inclined."

He looked at her bemusedly. "Ah yes, Christmas, the sweet smell of parchment beckons. But seriously, aren't you at least spending the holiday with Potter or that other one?"

"Ron?" she smiled.

"Him."

"Well," she looked down at her feet. "I'm not quite… doing anything. Ron and Helene have gone away for the week, and Harry will be with Ginny at the Burrow."

"And you won't be?" he asked, concerned about the sudden sadness that had come about her.

"Well I just don't want to impose. It's a time for their families…"

Draco had trouble resisting the urge to just reach out and shake her, screaming, "You are their family! If they don't want you around, then I'll be damned if my father isn't doing figure eights on the bloody ice down below!" But he held back.

"So I'll be at work," she said, resolutely.

"You most certainly will not," he persisted. "You worked yourself half to death at Hogwarts, as have you over the last several years. You are decidedly going to take a week off. And it just so happens that one devastatingly handsome Draco Malfoy doesn't have any plans for Christmas either. The situation being what it is, I simply couldn't fathom any possible reason why you would not be spending it with him," he beamed, somewhat devilishly.

She smiled back at him. "Oh but I'm sure you have something better to do. From what I recall, this Draco Malfoy character had a line of tarts just waiting to get their hands all over him." She laughed as he playfully swatted at her with a pillow. "But seriously Draco, I don't want you to just be taking pity on me."

"I'm hurt, Hermione. I don't like anyone enough to do things out of pity, you should know that by now," he returned, the smile never leaving his face. That was the thing with Draco now – where his smiles were once cold and sneering, they were now warm and genuine, as if from a completely different person. "And by the way," he continued, a wicked grin consuming his face, "the tarts? It's not a line, Granger, it's a stumbling, fighting horde, all just swooning over my irresistible allure."

"You wish, Malfoy."

They settled into a comfortable silence – the type that can only be experienced by people who truly trust each other. As the firelight flickered across Draco's face, Hermione noticed how much he had really changed since Hogwarts. No longer the whiny little rich boy, he had grown into himself. He was tall and lean, but muscular. He resembled his father in a sense, she noted somewhat apprehensively. However, Draco possessed more humanity than Lucius ever had, and that fact alone separated the two by worlds. As a strand of Draco's hair, blond as ever, occasionally fell across his face, Hermione had to resist the urge to reach over and run her hands through it. His hair had always fascinated her; it was just so… blond, she thought with a faint smile. Yes, she decided, this Draco was much nicer, better – and not to mention a fair bit more attractive than the old snotty Draco.

Hermione tried to stifle a massive yawn. She hadn't thought she was that tired – really, she didn't. So it came as a surprise to her to find herself nodding off on Draco's couch. She tried to fight it, but it was useless. She was absolutely exhausted; maybe she really had been working too hard. She felt her eyelids flutter close, and that was it.

When Draco looked up and saw that Hermione was asleep, he was heartened by the familiarity of it all. A few years ago she wouldn't have trusted herself to be in the same room as him, lest he hexed her on sight; now she had dozed off on his couch. A warm smile touched his lips. She really was beautiful, in her very own way.

Draco had also been doing his fair share of taking in Hermione's appearance. It wasn't as if he was checking her out, just kind of noticing. Hermione Granger could be considered plain in some respects, but it wasn't the sort of plainness that made a person turn away. She didn't need extraordinary beauty to draw people to her. Her brilliance was astounding, and she got a compelling sparkle in her eyes whenever she was on the brink of a discovery. Her hair had tamed itself over the last several years; now instead of her former mane, loose dark curls tumbled over her shoulders. Her skin was pale – though nowhere near his own traditional pallor – and her cheeks were still rosy from the cold. She wasn't the type of girl to be throwing herself at men left and right; rather, any sensible man would feel graced if only she would come to him. That was partially why Draco respected her so much. In his younger days, he was accustomed to the antics of some of the Slytherin girls – "anything for power" was their way of life. It was as if they had no shame. Whereas Hermione – she would never do anything without an honest intent. Draco thought of her very much as a friend, more so than he had ever envisioned a Gryffindor could ever be to him. He had always thought them so simple and single-minded. But then, he had also thought that being a Death Eater was a brilliant aspiration. But although he had made some flawed judgments in his past, Draco was fairly confident that he was finally headed in the right direction.

With a final smile, he stood and covered Hermione's sleeping form with a blanket. He didn't really know why, but as he was tucking the blanket over her shoulders, he bent down and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Goodnight, Hermione," he muttered, making his way to his own room.


End file.
